Don’t laugh about us old folks, kid. It ain’t so wise to do.
Before ya know it, you’ll get old an’ do the same things too--
Like grunt when we bend over, an’ fart when we get up.
Just make us laugh a mite too hard, we’ll piddle like a pup.
We take a load a medicine fer all our aches ‘n pains.
You know our joints is killin’ us ‘bout ever’ time it rains.
Our eyesight’s gittin’ cloudy, and we cain’t hear worth a lick.
Our memories is shot ta hell, that’s why we seem so thick.
Vicissitudes a aging means we’ll soon ride in a hearse
I’ll tell ya what that big word means—it’s “changes fer the worse.”
I learnt that word in church one time and thought that it applied.
It sounds good anyway fer all the things I cain’t abide.
So, at yer peril laugh at us, and think it ain’t gone happen.
It will, cuz you just cain’t escape from followin’ the pattern.
It’s part a nature’s plan ta kill us off an’ start anew.
There ain’t no damn exceptions, it’ll happen yet ta you!
